Hell Hath No Fury
by GothicWraith
Summary: Takes place six months after the events of Ant-Man. Scott Lang attempts to mend ties with his family, while Hope has embraced the beautiful gift her father presented her with in the post-credits scene. Meanwhile, a shrouded enemy threatens the future of Pym Technologies. R&R, as reviews are welcomed and encouraged.
1. Heist

**Author's Note: Just saw Ant-Man this weekend and I loved it! The following story is a sequel to Ant-Man, taking place six months after the events of the post-credits scene. This story was written to have a dark and gritty tone, similar to films such as The Winter Soldier and Netflix's Daredevil. Reviews and comments are welcomed and encouraged!**

* * *

"I've heard the stories. Seen the news reports. Maybe hitting this place so soon after our last job is a mistake."

"I've heard the stories too. But don't worry about it. With six guys, we have nothing to be afraid of. I tell you, this is a solid job," said one of the men, his shadow casting across the floor as he emptied a safety deposit box, spilling out diamond jewels and gold necklaces into a burly leather knapsack.

"You're probably right, Tony. It's a wonder we never hit this place sooner!" the masked man named Robert replied, packing several stacks of cash bills into his own pack. Tony just cackled in a stereotypical Brooklyn accent.

A charcoal-colored van was parked outside the City National Bank, and the masked driver quietly looked at his wristwatch. It was about two in the morning. He yawned as he surveyed his acquantiance dragging out the corpse of a security guard, hiding it in the brush that outlined the perimeter of the building.

"Any problems, Don?" asked the driver through the window as his partner walked towards the van after hiding the body. The driver articulated his words slowly, and in a deep voice that reinforced his leadership over the rest of the crew.

"No alarms tripped at all," Don replied in a confident tone, pulling out his 9mm pistol to verify that the suppressor was still fastened to it.

"My woman's been on me about retirement," continued Don, leaning in through the driver seat's window to speak. "After this job I think we can finally hang it up for good, boss."

The driver snickered. "In our line of work, enough is never enough. You'll never hang it up – same as me. Same as it ever was." The two burglars who were in the vaults exited the bank holding duffel bags and tossed them into the back of the van.

"We got two more of us still in there," Tony stressed as he flung his sack into the back of the van.

"Let's go see if they need any help," Robert replied.

The driver looked at his watch again as the two men reentered the bank. A silent gunshot signaled to Don that they'd taken out a second security guard. "Guess I better go hide him as well," said Don giving the driver a nod and making his way up the stairs.

As Don entered the building, he gazed around the lobby of the bank. The walls were ornate with modern frescoes and cultural mosaics. A peaceful calm came over the large hall as the sound of his footsteps echoed off the marble walls. He noticed the vault was still open, yet Tony wasn't there to retrieve the backpacks containing their score.

"Tony," whispered Don. "Where are you man?" Don's heart sank as he heard what sounded like a pin drop coming from the bank manager's cage. "The hell was that?" he asked again, taking out his pistol, and cautiously walking in a bull-legged fashion towards the cage.

"Robert?" He called out again.

"What is it?" Robert asked from behind Don who was still pointing the gun at the cage. Don spun around to find himself pointing his gun at Robert, who suddenly raised his hands.

"What the hell are you doing? Put that fucking thing down before you hurt yourself," exclaimed Robert.

As Don breathed a sigh of relief, he noticed what appeared to be a small insect on the barrel of his pistol. As he arched his brow, a pair of long slender legs seemed to pounce on top of him. Robert's eyes widened as he saw a glint of yellow in the darkness of the bank. The only light seeping in through the vast windows came from the sliver of moonlight. Don cried out in pain as he buckled to the ground, scraping his chin on the hard linoleum. Blood began to pour from his nose.

Robert raised his weapon, but the shadowy shape was gone. "Are you all right?" Robert called out to Don, who appeared to be unconscious with a busted nose. With that, a powerful black glove, almost mechanical in design, gripped Robert's forearm, forcing him to double over. He presented himself for the mysterious figure to deliver two sharp kicks – one to the stomach and another to the face to lay him out onto the ground.

Meanwhile, Tony had stealthily approached this shadow from behind. As the silhouette spun around, Tony attempted to send a fist into the figure's torso. As his fist connected, the sound of flesh hitting metal was heard, and Tony let out a shrill scream of pain.

"Tsk, tsk," the mysterious being cooed before smashing a shin into the goon's groin. Tony's mouth opened wide, but no sound escaped him as was grabbed by the scurf of his shirt, and lifted. "That's not how you punch."

Tony gurgled as he hung in the air by his collar, his feet barely touching the ground. He looked down at the haunting wraith that was disarming his friends so easily. The figure wore a silver helmet which concealed its entire head. A yellow visor gave the helmet an aesthetic that could only be comparable to some form of insect. Before Tony could speak, the figure seemed to disappear, and a powerful blow impacted his mouth. Tony realized that he had never been hit harder in his life. He flew across the room, and slid across a nearby desk before landing on the hard floor, knocking over several trinkets and files along the way.

"That's how you punch," the insect said mockingly as it reappeared in full form in the lobby.

Unbeknownst of what was transpiring on the first floor of the bank, two more masked goons made their way off the elevator, but stopped short in their tracks as they discovered the yellow and black insect-like creature standing in the middle of the lobby. It gracefully turned towards them.

"Come on boys," it taunted. "I don't have all night."

With that, the two goons looked at each other before staring back at the looming figure. Both men raised their pistols and began firing, when the being appeared to evaporate in thin air. In a stupor, the men kept firing in panic until their weapon magazines were dry. Suddenly, the mysterious assailant reappeared in front of them. As one of the men rushed to strike, the figure expertly blocked the attack by raising both hands in front of its head for protection. The "insect" then performed several boxing jabs towards the second burglar. His blocking skills were not so adept, and the connected blows to his solar plexus caused him to fall to his knees, gripping his stomach and writhing in pain. The insect creature then executed a gorgeous roundhouse kick towards the other perpetrator's face. The kick sent him flying through the air, incapacitating him completely before he hit the marble floor with an ungrateful thud.

* * *

The driver was now reading a newspaper in the van. " _What the hell is taking so long?"_ he thought to himself. He caught a glimpse of yellow in his peripheral vision, and yet when he turned to view the old, steep stone steps leading up to the entrance, there was nothing in sight. As he went to return his focus to the newspaper, he caught a glance at something crawling on the top of dashboard.

"What the?" The driver said to himself in confusion as he leaned in closer to study what looked like a small-scale version of a human being.

The windshield suddenly exploded in front of him, shards of glass covering his face as he brought his arms up to shield himself. Two heeled boots dug into the driver's sternum. As he groaned from the pain of feeling the immense pressure on his chest, he found himself propelled out of the driver's door and onto the cold pavement. As he heard the sound of clicking heels, he looked up to see his attacker swagger casually around the side of the van.

"You've been very bad," it said condescendingly as it approached the man.

The driver noticed that the figure moved in a very feminine way. Standing around 5'6", she was quite statuesque, and poised. Her arms and legs were incredibly lithe, but defined, and strong. The armored suit she wore was much more sophisticated, probably funded by those military R&D divisions that he had read about on the Internet. The suit appeared to accentuate her curves, especially with the moonlight gleaming off of her chest plate, which consisted of a dark blue and golden-yellow design. A red trim also outlined her clavicle, pauldrons which protected her shoulders, and the cuisses which armored her thighs. It was evident that this high-tech exoskeleton was formed of synthetic fibers, and yet it clung to her body like a motorcycle jumpsuit. Greaves and bracers completed the ensemble which matched the suit's color scheme.

"You're going to jail," she spoke as she picked up the driver to his feet before smashing his head against the side of the van. Sirens could be heard in the distance.

The driver grunted as he fell to his knees, using the side of the van to hold himself up for support. Tears began to roll down his face from the sudden jolt of pain. The woman grabbed him by the throat and pinned him to the side of the van. The driver was in shock as he saw the bug-eyed helmet piercing his eyes.

"Who…who are you?"

She leaned in closely. "I'm the Wasp," she whispered before delivering an uppercut to the driver. As her fist connected with his chin, she could feel his jaw bone rattle inside his head. She witnessed the driver pass out from the knockout blow. She finally released the driver from her grasp, and in a sprawling heap, he fell to the curb, immobilized.

The woman breathed in the night air, her breasts softly heaving behind the armored chest plate as she scanned the premises of the bank. Using her right thumb, she clicked a button on her glove, and with that her form contracted into a miniature version of herself; invisible to any naked eye from afar.

As the police arrived, they searched the entire area, and discovered the six masked criminals, all with broken bones and even more broken pride. The police also found the two dead security guards, and immediately contacted their families, as well as the bank manager. All stolen money, jewelry and property were returned accordingly. Around the time that Channel 4 arrived on the crime scene, the driver had finally come to, in a state of terror and humiliation. As he was being wheeled into the ambulance, spectators could only make out one word from his bumbling.

" _Wasp_."


	2. Board Meeting

**Author's Note:** Thank you very much for the support and reviews after the first chapter. It makes continuing this story so much more rewarding. Be sure to also favorite and follow the story if you enjoy it. As always, reviews are what fuel me to write more chapters, so please feel free to leave your comments and opinions.

* * *

 **San Francisco**

 **Grand Hyatt Hotel - Pym Technologies Floor**

 **0900 Hours**

"Good morning Dr. Pym," greeted the perky concierge as both father and daughter strut in through the lobby of the Grand Hyatt Hotel on the San Francisco waterfront. The hotel gave extraordinary views of the surrounding cityscape. The décor itself was sophisticated with a contemporary flair; urban and luxurious. The floor to ceiling windows in the lobby overlooked the Bay, giving off a wealth of natural light that made the space look more like a fancy airport than a downtown hotel.

"Good morning, dear," Hank replied to the concierge, while Hope simply gave a smile. They both walked with confident intent to the elevator. With the recent destruction of the Pym Technologies Headquarters, Hank and Hope had to find a way to pick up where they left off, and the Hyatt Hotel was generous enough to offer an entire floor dedicated to a research lab and board office where they could continue conducting business, such as keeping the Pym Particle out of Stark hands.

Hank wore a sterling gray suit with a bright red tie that would catch any pedestrian's wandering eye. His gunshot wound had completely healed now, and with all the wrong in the world, he was still content. After all, he had regained his daughter's approval and respect, and he had helped keep his sought after technology from falling into Darren Cross' hands. He was happy to be back in his rightful position as President of the company he had fostered so many years ago.

Hope wore a classic black pinstripe blazer over a black tube blouse, complete with a fitting skirt and nylon pantyhose. Her glossy louboutin pumps clicked on the hotel floor with an unwavering rhythm. Her hair dark raven bob cut swayed with every step, and her full lips were puckered with deep red lipstick. She glanced at other patrons in the lobby, analyzing possible threats before entering the elevator with her father. As the doors closed, she let out a slight yawn.

"Busy night?" asked Hank.

"I'm fine," Hope responded looking at the numbers rise on the elevator's screen interface while holding a leather briefcase with both hands. She felt pride about what she had accomplished the night before. She knew that she had nothing more to prove to her father. Originally, she may have been fueled by anger about donning the Wasp suit, which could have ultimately corrupted her. However, with everything that had transpired - finding out the truth about her mother, letting go of that truth, watching Scott wear the suit, and helping him to do the right thing - she knew in heart that she was the right person for the suit.

Hank had obviously felt that she had learned humility by the end of the Darren Cross incident. Scott Lang already had it, because he was a broken man, having been in prison and having lost everything, unable to make ends meet or hold down a job. He was anything but proud, and maybe he event felt that he didn't deserve a second chance, whereas Hope initially felt that she deserved to be the Ant-Man. That she was _owed_ it. But it's not just that she had changed. Hank had changed too through this incident, and had let his daughter in rather than shutting her out. And maybe now, the Wasp represented literal hope, because there was now hope of possibly finding his lost wife in the Quantum Realm.

Hope had let go of her resentment, and Hank had stopped being so secretive, and overprotective. Their relationship was a complex one, but they were working on it day by day. Hope knew that Hank giving her the Wasp suit was a sign that he was improving emotionally and no longer letting his past control him.

"Who do we have first up?" Hope asked as the elevator opened and they made their way to the board room.

"A possible investor," Hank said. "A very interesting man…have you heard of Ira Drazen?"

Hope arched her brow. "The Olympian wrestler? Isn't he Czech? Why would he be interested in investing in Pym Tech?"

Hank smiled. "Apparently he's gotten his gold medals, and now he wants to try his hand at philanthropy and clean energy for the world."

Hope frowned. She didn't like the idea of wasting her precious time with a foreign athlete who had no business in the biochemical engineering world. She had a lunch date with Scott and she wanted to be out of the office at a decent hour.

"Let's just see what he has to say," Hank reassured. "We both know we could use more benefactors after our recent misgivings."

They both walked into the board office. The room was surrounded by windows, giving the entire space a light blue hue which grazed off a contemporary oval shaped table in the center. Leather upholstery accompanied the table.

"No promises," Hope said.

* * *

"Welcome, Mr. Drazen," Hank greeted while standing up as Ira Drazen, gold-medalist at the 2008 Summer Olmypics, sauntered into the board office. Hope studied him as she also rose from her chair. He was a few years younger than her, and despite his athletic build, similar to that of an MMA fighter, he moved with coordination, and his body looked to be more muscle than fat, even in his expensive suit. In behind Drazen walked a tall, lithe blonde, with dark highlights and thick rimmed glasses. She wore a white professional looking blouse with rolled up sleeves, and a tight leather skirt. She smiled as Hank shook Drazen's hand.

"And you must be Ms. Van Dyne," Drazen said in an eastern European accent as Hope presented her hand to shake his. Drazen cupped her palm before planting a soft kiss on the top of her hand. "You are indeed, as lovely as your reputation makes you out to be."

"A pleasure," Hope smiled.

"This is my assistant, Natalya Prenova," said Drazen as he presented his companion, followed by more greetings.

"Please, have a seat," Hope offered as they all sat down.

"Thank you for joining us," Hank said. "It really is a great honor to have a gold-medalist in the office."

Drazen chuckled. "We cannot compare what I do to what you do. You make the world a better place. This is why I wanted to become involved in your various ventures."

Hank grinned. "Why thank you. I'm not sure what you've heard about the future of Pym Tech, but with the recent events that occurred with a past president, we are in the midst of rebuilding. We - "

Drazen interjected. "We understand the sensitive nature of the current climate regarding your company. But Natalya and I wanted to run an idea by your magnificent mind."

Hank was taken aback at the interruption but motioned his hand for Drazen to continue. He did.

"The Pym Particle is a miracle of science. We all know this. With the revolution of the Ant-Man suit, many private security corporations are attempting to militarize this Pym Particle. But what if there was a way we could help the world?"

"And what way would you be thinking, Mr. Drazen?" asked Hope, smiling.

"The world's food crisis," Drazen continued, as Natalya simply sat crossing her legs, looking at Hank. "The Pym Particle expands and contracts atoms, correct? If we could enlarge one small food supply drop that the Red Cross sends to North Africa, it would be enough to feed a struggling village for a year."

Hank looked down at the table, fidgeting with a pen, taking brief pause. "Mr. Drazen, with all due respect, you are not the first person to offer some version of that idea to us. As you know, we have many departments in our Applied Sciences Division. I was unaware that you had so much interest in the Pym Particle."

"The Pym Particle could be the very solution that solves world hunger," Drazen said again, the pitch of his voice somewhat increasing.

"Mr. Drazen," Hope said politely, "We –"

"I believe he was discussing this with Dr. Pym," Natalya suddenly spoke in what appeared to be a German accent. Hope was shocked at the rude comment. Hank noticed this and attempted to play the diplomat.

"Mr. Drazen, you must realize that there are corporations out there that would do _anything_ to get their hands on the Pym Particle. To simply offer it up as a commodity, it might eventually fall into hands that would mean to do our country harm."

Natalya cleared her throat. "And yet, the Ant-Man continues to operate, along with this Wasp character that was just mentioned on the news this morning. We know that these two suits are products of Pym Technologies."

Hope raised her brow at the mention of the Wasp. "And what would an executive assistant know about what products Pym Technologies is responsible for?"

With that, Natalya glared at Hope, while Hope calmly stared back at Drazen's blonde assistant. The tension in the room clearly had increased. An uncomfortable silence fell about the room, until Drazen spoke.

"Dr. Pym," he started. "The Wasp has been on the news five times this month alone. Whoever she is, she has been cleaning up the streets and making the city a safer place. I appreciate this, and it appears that you do too. Why not do more? On a grand scale!"

Hank took a deep sigh for a moment before standing. "It is obvious by your fervor, Mr. Drazen, that you have a deep passion for this type of project. My daughter and I do realize this. However, now is just not the time to produce the Pym Particle on such a scale."

"Darren Cross wouldn't have given this a second thought!" Drazen suddenly yelled, also rising to his feet.

At the sound of his name, Hank became agitated. "Darren Cross was a conniving, psychotic criminal who nearly ran my legacy into the ground, and I will not have his name mentioned in this office again, is that clear?"

Drazen sat back in his chair, his folded hands on his lips. Natalya curled her lip, still staring at Hope, who also had not removed her gaze. Hope crossed her arms.

"I can say that we will certainly take your words under advisement," said Hank, more calmly now as he sat in his char.

Another brief silence fell on the room. Only the sound of the secretary typing outside could be heard.

"Thank you for coming. I'll show you out," Hope said politely as she stood up from her seat.

"Don't bother," Drazen said, also standing. "We will show ourselves out."

With that, both Drazen and his leggy assistant left the room through the glass door. Hank and Hope simply watched them as they boarded the elevator. Once the elevator doors shut, Hank looked at Hope.

"That escalated quickly," he said, trying to make light of the situation.

"What do you make of it?" Hope asked, sitting back down and crossing her legs while straightening her pantyhose. She began to rock back and forth in the dark leather chair.

"I don't know. I think his intentions were good," replied Hank, still looking at the elevator doors. "He's passionate. But I of all people understand how passion can turn into obsession. Until all you see is red."

Hope bit her lip. Anger ran in the family, no doubt. Hank turned to his daughter.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Hope said, running her fingers through her bob cut.

"We should talk about the suit."

"I have lunch with Scott," Hope said as she swiveled out of her chair and made her way to the door. Hank sighed.

"Tell him that if he isn't going to use my suit anymore, he can return it to my vault any time."

"I'm sure he'll heed your instructions, as always," smiled Hope as she made her way out of the board room with an arrogant gait.

* * *

"Hey you!" Scott said as he stood up from the café table. The waterfront café was busy with customers, as it was lunch hour. The sun was shining brightly and a warm breeze made it one of the hottest days of the summer. Hope put her purse on the neighboring chair before embracing Scott.

"Hey yourself," she replied. As she went to kiss him Scott suddenly withdrew his lips away from hers.

"Um…can we talk?" asked Scott as he placed his hands on Hope's arms and slightly pulled away from her.

Hope frowned. "Yes, of course," she said as they both sat down.

"I'm sure your dad has been wondering where I've been," Scott said.

"Not just my dad," Hope replied, a little more sternly. "What is it that you want to talk about?"

"My daughter," Scott said. "Well, my wife and my daughter. They're moving."

"Moving?" Hope arched her brow, knowing what this might mean.

"Yes," answered Scott. "To Phoenix."

"Wow…I –" Hope started.

"That's not all," Scott interjected. "My wife wants to try again."

Hope bit her lip, looking down at her lap, until she brought her attention back to Scott and smiled. "I'm…very happy for you, Scott."

"Are you?" Scott asked.

"Yes. You deserve all the best," Hope reassured. "Family comes first and this is clearly something you need to do."

"Thank you, Hope. I didn't want to make things awkward."

"They're not awkward at all," Hope smiled again, reaching for her purse.

"You don't have to go. We can still eat and –" began Scott.

"It's no problem!" Hope said, looking at Scott lovingly. "I have to get back to the office anyway."

"Oh, all right," Scott said, standing up. "I can return the Ant-Man suit if need be."

"No," Hope shook her hand, still maintaining her composure. "You are the Ant-Man. That will never change."

Scott grinned. "Goodbye, Hope."

Hope gave Scott a final look of affirmation before turning away and briskly striding away from the café.

" _This is not my day,"_ Hope thought to herself, not allowing herself to feel vulnerable as she made her way to her car.

* * *

The punching bag in Hope's apartment was especially useful. With each punch and kick that Hope delivered to it, it simply absorbed the energy that Hope was evidently wound up with. She wore tight black leggings and a sports bra as she practiced her kickboxing skills on the punching bag.

She kept repeating to herself that she wasn't upset about Scott. She knew that his daughter came first, always. And with his wife attempting to reconcile, Scott should never turn down an opportunity like that. Hope was happy for him.

She sent another powerful blow with her fist into the red, weathered punching bag. As small grunts of anger began to escape from Hope, the doorbell rang. She barely heard it over the frenzy of punches she delivered to the bag.

"One minute," she said, breathing heavily as she made her way to the door. Her apartment was dark, yet posh. The open concept room was immaculately clean. Unlike her father's mansion, this apartment appeared as if no one lived in it at all, as if the apartment itself was a model for realtors to show clients. A wide window stretched from wall to wall that overlooked the beautiful San Francisco cityscape, which looked glorious at night. Save for a glass coffee table, and an Icelandic furniture set consisting of two chairs and a sofa, no appliances or signs that it was a home were present.

As Hope opened the door, she nearly gasped at the sight. Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, stood in the doorway. He wore casual jeans, a black shirt and a brown leather jacket.

"Ma'am," he said, giving her a nod. "May we talk?"

"I –" Hope replied, still shocked that the leader of the Avengers was standing in her doorway.

"I'm going to take that as a yes," he said with a certain charm. Hope simply moved out of the way for Captain America to enter the apartment.

"Have a seat wherever you like," she said, looking around to make sure the room was appropriate.

"Working out, I see," Steve said as he surveyed the apartment. Hope suddenly became flushed as she noticed she was still in her workout outfit, and glazed with sweat.

"Um, what can I do for you, Mr. Rogers?" asked Hope who leaned her weight on one leg and crossed her arms, looking down at the Avenger who was comfortable on her sofa.

"What I'm about to tell you is confidential, Miss Van Dyne," he started. "But I feel that I am safe in discussing sensitive matters of national security with the Wasp."

Hope's eyes widened. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't" Rogers answered quickly. "Don't worry. Your identity is safe with me. Just promise me you won't treat me like a fool."

Hope thought for a moment, still staring at Captain America, not yet realizing the surreal nature of the situation.

"Fair enough," Hope said.

"You had a visitor today," Rogers informed Hope. "A man named Ira Drazen."

"That's right," Hope answered as she went to retrieve a face towel from her bathroom, wiping herself down as she came back into the main room. "He was very pleasant."

"Did you know that he entered the country two weeks ago on a fake passport?"

Hope arched her brow a bit. "Then why is he still here?"

"We let him in," responded the Captain. "We want to know what he's up to. SHIELD has a file on him."

Hope said nothing as she waltzed over to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. She noticed Captain America catching a glimpse of her.

"Stop staring at my ass," Hope said as she began to drink the glass.

"Ma'am, I –"

"I'm just joking," Hope smiled back. "Thank you for the intel, Mr. Rogers," started Hope. "I noticed something may have been off about him and his assistant as well."

"His assistant?"

"Yes," answered Hope. "Natalya Prenova."

"I don't believe we've heard of her."

"They were very interested in my father's work, and the Ant-Man technology," she explained as she made her way back to the sofa. "I'm not sure that my father may have picked up on any sort of agenda."

"Ira Drazen is an Olympian star," Captain America said. "This is true. But SHIELD believes he's had ties to criminal organizations back in the Czech Republic, post-Olympics. The Drazen family has been linked to organized crime that dates back to the 1960s. Can you take a guess at what one of these organizations might be?"

Hope looked out her window at the surrounding skyline. The bright lights in the night sky reminded her of fireflies in a dark, empty chasm, with no way to escape. With nothing but darkness, the light from the fireflies would eventually be extinguished.

"Hydra," she whispered.

"Bingo," Steve confirmed.

"So put the Avengers on it," said Hope, turning back to Rogers.

"We both know that we can't be everywhere at once. After Ultron, Tony Stark is insistent that otherworldly forces threaten our planet. We're focusing on that right now. You're all we have on the west coast. You and the Ant-Man."

"Actually, it's just me right now."

"Oh," Steve raised his chin. "I see."

"Anyway, how do you expect me to find him?" Hope asked.

With that, Captain America pulled out a small PDA device and handed it to Hope. "We've been tracking him since he arrived. Once we saw that he entered the Pym Technologies office earlier this morning, I thought it best to come see you."

"Because I'm Pym's daughter? Or because of the other thing?" Hope asked.

Captain America did not answer.

"If there's dirt on Drazen, I'll find it," Hope said reassuringly. "Don't expect me to share results with you and Stark, though. I know what he did to my father."

"That was thirty years ago, ma'am," Rogers replied. "And I'm afraid I don't know much about that, I was a bit under the ice if you catch my meaning."

Hope snickered. Captain America stood up from the couch. At 6'2", he looked down at Hope. "So we'll see each other again, yes?"

Hope looked into his eyes, not showing any sign of emotion, but simply giving a kind nod. "All right," she said softly.

"Good night, ma'am," he bid as he made his way to the door and closed it behind him.

As she heard the click of the door shutting, she made her way to a nearby bookcase. There were very few books on it, as most of her reading was done at her father's house. Behind "Turn of the Screw," was a button that she pressed. Suddenly, the bookshelf slowly slid into the wall to reveal an alcove large enough for Hope to step into. As she entered, she looked up at the beautiful gift her father had given her months ago. The Wasp suit hung perfectly in a glass case surrounded by white lights, and the silver helmet was slightly angled downwards so that Hope could stare back into the yellow visor. This was who she was, and who she was destined to be. She didn't need Scott in her life to be fulfilled. She opened the glass case and ran her fingers over the Wasp suit's transparent wings. Tonight was as good as any to test out her personal wingspan.

And fly.


End file.
